


Larmes (tears of a boy/monster/prince)

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sadness, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:19:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Five times the prince cried with sorrow and one he cried with joy.Mostly Beast angst.





	

I.

 

He cried for days when his mother passed. He was old enough and smart enough to know what it meant, what it entailed. He understood that he would never see her again, that they would never embrace again, that they wouldn't sing together, that she would simply be gone.

 

He had lost her for good, forever.

 

His mother had been the most (and only) positive influence in his life. The one person who had shown him true affection, encouraged him to be better, stood by him, smiled at him, loved him unconditionally. The one who kissed him good night, who tucked him bed, who chased the nightmares away. And now she was gone, and he had to keep living. But without her, because she wasn't coming back.

 

And it wasn't just that – mother had been the one who defended him in front of his father, protected him for the aggressions and insults of the older man. She'd become a barrier between the two, making life easier for the prince.

 

So not only had he lost the brightest presence in his life, and the person he loved most, who had been his guiding light, but he'd been left alone with only darkness. And so he hid in a cupboard and cried for hours. Alone in the darkness, overcome by boundless grief. Life now seemed to much to bear, too bleak, too horrible.

 

And so he cried, and cried and cried, until his head hurt too much. And then he cried again because even when he stopped he remembered why he'd locked himself in there. And he cried.

 

They looked for him after the funeral, and no one could find him. They looked for the prince in every room of the house, and in all the way from the cemetery to the house. Nothing. After some hours, it was Lumière who found him, after hearing some strange noises coming from a cupboard. The furniture seemed to be weeping.

 

The servant opened it, and there he was, the missing boy. His face was still wet and his eyes bloodshot, his small body shaking from cold and grief and hurt. It was a heart-breaking sight, but also endearing in a way: it showed just how much the boy had loved his mother, how sensitive he was, how capapble of love.

 

Soon his father would teach him that emotions led to weakness and that weakness was not allowed in his heir – and they would all end up missing the heartbroken boy they once knew.

 

-

 

II.

 

Chip hadn't known the master as a boy, he'd only known him as the cold, unkind man he had become. So he tried to stay away from his mother's employer, not bother the man if he could, to avoid being yelled at. He really hated it, and knew that if he got in trouble it could affect his mum.

 

The boy had heard how the master treated others, and he was honest, he was a bit scared.

 

The master always spoke with a loud, commanding voice and he owned everything they had, the place where they lived. If he wanted to, he could kick his mother and him out of that place, take them away from everyone, he could do as he pleased, and he did. The master wanted everything to be done and to be done quickly and properly and got angry when it wasn't. He was powerful, important and very unpleasant, and Chip dreaded their encounters.

 

Specially at a time like this, when he had messed up. He had been bringing the cups after the plates after the tea and he dropped a cup, and now it was chipped. And then the door opened and the master appeared, tall and imposing as ever, looking angry. Chip stepped back and felt his entire body shaking. How could he be so clumsy? The master would be so angry that he broke something, so so angry. He would yell at him and who knew what else – he could do anything he pleased, and now he had a reason.

 

So Chip muttered a quick apology and ran, ran to the kitchen and safety of his mother, and left the cup and embraced her, so that she would make his fears disappear. He'd run off so fast, that he hadn't given the prince a chance to speak, to move, to react. Everything had happened in a matter of seconds, but it was quite clear what had happened.

 

Chip had disappeared so fast, that he didn't get to see the master wipe away a couple of astray tears at the realisation that he scared little boys with his mere presence. ( _This wasn't who he supposed to be, this wasn't who maman would have wanted him to be_ ) But there was no time for that now. He was too busy for useless emotions like that.

 

III.

 

When he was transformed, the prince lost consciousness and remained like that for three days. After that time, he awoke, convinced that the curse must have been a dream, a nightmare, that it couldn't be possible for him to have become that monstuous creature.

 

But then he opened his eyes, and saw fur and paws and things that shouldn't be there. In a hurry, he got out of the bed and looked in a mirror. There he was, horns and all, a complete, absolute beast. His previously beautiful body was badly deformed, covered in fur, too big, too horrible, one could hardly recognise him. And not even he could look at the creature in the reflection without feeling repulssed.

 

He was repulsive. He was a monster.

 

No one would ever love him, no one would ever even want to look at him. He would never have his body back, and would die, rotten away in that monstrous form that felt so unfamiliar, so upsetting. He was trapped, he couldn't go back. He was cursed, forever, to be an abomination, to be some disgusting, deformed creaure that didn't belong with men anymore.

 

And so he broke down in the loudest, most heart-wrenching sobs that castle had ever heard, trying to tear away that unfamiliar skin from him, trying to break free from the nightmare and not being able. And his cries were loud, and heart-felt, for all those tears that he hadn't cried all those years, and for all the ones to come. He cried in horror at his own reflection, not being able to withstand the effects of the curse.

 

He fell on the floor of the washing room and cried. His tears fell on the white marble. It was the first of many nights like that.

 

IV.

 

For a long time, the prince refused to do anything, refused to live. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to sleep, he didn't even want to read. No matter how the servants tried to coerce him into moving, getting out, trying to enjoy the days, the prince couldn't. Maybe he should move and go out, and do things. He certainly wasn't going to break the curse in that forsaken room, watching that rose slowly die. But he couldn't move, couldn't muster energy for the most basic things.

 

Joy was a long forgotten feeling, like the sun and the laughter from his ball room, so full of people as it used to be. There was nothing left of that life, there was only silence, and darkness, and occasional tears that betrayed the agony the prince felt within him. The horror of his past, his present and future clawed at him. Not only had he condemmed himself to an enternity of loneliness, but he had condemned all the inhabitants of the castle too.

 

He could do nothing but cry.

 

V.

 

There was one tear that fell before everything went dark.

 

After having known what it was like to love and having to let it go, after losing hope and then getting it back when Belle returned, now fate had played yet another cruel trick on him. Belle had returned to him, she loved him, and now he had his body full of lead and was slowly bleeding out on the floor of that cold room.

 

Now that he had barely glimpsed a chance at light, at finally finding happiness and sharing his days and nights with someone who loved him, impossible as it that may seem, now he would lose it all. She did love him, and she had come back, she was urging him to stay with her, asking him not to go, and her face was so beautiful, even with all that sadness in her expression, that he hardly registered the pain.

 

But it was so unfair, wasn't it? After so long being alone, not caring if he lived or died, he had to go when he had found something to live for, when he'd found hope again. They had so many posibilities together, so many moments they hadn't experienced, so many days and nights, all taken away from them. It was very sad, and yet he was happy, because he'd seen her again, when he thought he lost her forever.

 

So only one tear fell and while looking at her, he drifted away.

 

+1

 

It was a simple morning, just both of them at the breakfast table, sun shining through the windows.

 

“You're crying.” Belle said, worry in her beautiful features. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, Nothing is wrong.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> What can I say, I LOVE angst. And happy endings even more.
> 
> Any and all feedback is super appreciated, and makes an overworked author really happy :)


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